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it's the little things

Summary:

Deku puts life and love and a sense of home into everything he does and everywhere he goes.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Katsuki absolutely hates mundane things. He hates paperwork, he hates driving, he hates running Deku’s errands, he hates his hearing aids. He hates all of it.

But what he hates even more– what he hates even more is that if it’s with Deku, it’s okay. If it’s with Deku, it’s tolerable. It’s even... enjoyable sometimes. Actually, Katsuki thinks he might have a secret quirk that he’s hiding from him, among his seven million or how ever many more quirks he has, because whatever Deku does, he puts this little magic into it. One that makes it happy and fun and other words Katsuki generally wouldn’t use.

Deku puts life and love and a sense of home into everything he does and everywhere he goes. And Katsuki hates that– hates that power of his– the most.

But even so, when he says they’re fresh out of eggs, and milk, and flour, too– Deku’s got another gift when it comes to baking, you see– he takes them to the grocery store without him even asking.

“You didn’t have to do this, Kacchan–”

“I know I don't, you dumbass,” he huffs. “But I'm here already, ain’t I?”

Deku smiles at him with a brightness even the motherfucking sun couldn’t hold a candle to, a sweetness that knows no rival on this god forsaken planet. “Thank you, Kacchan!”

Katsuki snatches up the grocery basket with a scoff. “Yeah, yeah, I’m the best, I know.”

“You really are,” Deku coos. “Here, I’ll carry the basket for you, honey bunch–”

“One,” he snaps, “I’m strong enough to carry a fuckin’ basket by myself.” He slams a package of pork into the basket– a little harder than necessary. “Two, don’t call me that gay shit. M’ name’s Kacchan .”

Too late, he’s realized his mistake. Deku’s grin is wide and absolutely shit-eating. “Kacchan–!”

“Fuck off, Deku,” he says hotly. “Just get your goddamn supplies already. Before I regret driving your runty ass here.”

“Real charming,” Deku teases. “No wonder I’m the Number One and not you. Who would want–”

He easily dodges the basket Katsuki hurls at him, and scurries towards the baking aisle. Katsuki quickly realizes he’s grinning. He lets it stay there for a second.

By the time the unfitting smile has slipped off his face– he’s the Symbol of Victory (a fierce and intimidating figure) after all, not Japan’s Sweetheart– his basket’s already full of everything he needs for a bowl of katsudon. He swears it’s automatic.

Oh, well. Deku’s worked hard. He deserves some of Katsuki’s bomb-ass cooking.

After that, it takes all of five minutes to find Deku in the snack aisle. His basket is filled with disgustingly unhealthy and fattening bags of chips and sugary things. “Oi, Deku.”

Deku jumps. “Oh! Kacchan–!”

“Why’d you get all that shit,” he says, glaring at the offending basket. “D’you even get what I drove you here for, huh?”

“Of course I did!” he yelps. “Look! Flour, chocolate chips– semisweet, just the way you like them– almonds, eggs–”

“Alright, quit yappin’, I get it. Put the eggs away, too. Got some already.”

Deku, clearly eager to change the topic, stares at him with impossibly round eyes. Katsuki likes this look on him. He looks– well, cute– and kinda stupid, too. But then again, he always does. That’s his idiot, right here. “For what?”

“Katsudon,” he says gruffly. “Now put those damn–”

“You’re gonna make katsudon for me?” Deku beams.

“No, they’re for your mom –”

“You’re really the best, Kacchan!” Deku sweeps him into a bone-crushing hug that he allows. They’re both wearing hats, so no one will recognize them anyways, right? “My lovely gummy bear–”

“No,” he growls. “I said , don’t call me that gay shit! And put that unhealthy shit away!”

Deku picks his basket back up, unbothered. “I deserve a treat, don’t you think?”

“And that’s why I’m making katsudon, you fucking–”

“But you know how much I like sweets!” he says brightly. Then, he fixes him with a devious smirk. “That’s why I like you–”

“Alright, die in a hole,” Katsuki cuts in, and promptly tugs his hearing aids out. He endures the uncomfortable vulnerability his impaired hearing brings just to see Deku pleading, and for the second time in the last ten minutes, he catches himself smiling. He really is getting too soft, huh?

He puts them back in–

“–sorry, baby pie– I mean, Kacchan–”

“Just shut up, Deku,” he says. “I won’t beat your ass if you put that shit away.”

“Okay, I’ll put the chips away, but I want the cup–”

“Make the goddamn cupcakes yourself, you fucking nerd! Isn’t that why you bought all that, huh?”

The idiot seems to realize his mistake. “Oh. You’re right. Then I’ll keep the–”

“You ain’t keeping jack shit,” Katsuki snaps, snatching Deku’s basket away. “How many times do I gotta tell you? Your diet is important, fuckwipe! You’re a fuckin’ hero, for god’s sake. You wanna be the Number One? You gotta eat like the Number–”

“Kacchan, you’re making a scene,” Deku hisses, grabbing the stupid fucking basket back. “I get it, so don’t yell.”

Katsuki just stalks down the snack aisle, Deku following close behind. “Whatever. I’m putting this–” he gestures to the over-processed sweets “–away, and we’re getting fruit. To satisfy your goddamn sweet tooth healthily.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Thanks for taking care of me, gummy– I mean–”

“If I didn’t, you’d die, you dumbass nerd.”

Once they’re done putting all the chip bags back on the proper shelves, and the cupcakes and cookies too, Deku links his arm with Katsuki’s. The familiar warmth and weight is comforting. He can practically feel his blood pressure lowering as they walk to the produce section.

“You want strawberries?” he asks. He tosses a box in without waiting for an answer. Katsuki picked the best ones, after all. Only the best berries for the best heroes.

“Can you please get black, blue, and raspberries, too? I’ll make a berry cake this weekend.”

“You don't got patrol?” he says. Again, he gets the fruits anyways. Deku’s scarred hand in his– when did it get there?– squeezes in thanks.

“Only on Saturday. You have one too, right?”

Katsuki tosses in a bunch of bananas. “Yeah. Sunday.”

“Aww,” Deku pouts. It takes every ounce of willpower to not kiss it off his idiotic face. “We don’t match up.”

“No shit,” he says instead. He lets Deku guide them to the cash registers, hauling two full baskets in one hand. And he pretends not to notice when Deku snags some chips off the shelf. Just this one time.

“Well, I’ll make it up to you in… in macarons,” he smiles. Deku helps him empty their goods onto the conveyor belt and inconspicuously pulls his Ground Zero hat lower on his head as the cashier greets them. It almost covers up all his distinctly wild curls.

“Didn’t get almond flour, fu– nerd.”

“I’ll get it when I’m done with patrol.”

“You tryna get us fat? Or what?”

“Share some with Kirishima and Ashido when you see them, then.”

“No way,” he scoffs over the beeping of their items. “They don't deserve jack shit. That’s for me.”

Deku takes the bagged things with a laugh. “Do you want them or not? Make up your mind.”

“Course I do, you jackass.”

He lets Deku put the groceries away, too, because right now, the way the sun slants in under his hat and highlights his nose, his round cheeks, emphasizes the smattering of freckles on his face– right now, he’s gorgeous. Katsuki lets himself openly stare.

“Do I… do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Freckles.”

Deku rolls his eyes. “Funny. You’re so clever, Kacchan.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He slams the trunk down and opens the passenger side. “Get in, useless.”

“What a gentleman,” he laughs. It’s light and twinkly. Lame. Endearingly so.

Instead of giving voice to the affections in his head, he snarls. “Shut the fuck up or drive yourself back, asshat.”

“‘Kay,” he chirps. “Thanks, Kacchan.”

The drive back home is not at all mundane and boring. Not with his hand on Deku’s thick thigh, Deku’s warm scarred hand on top. Not with his quiet humming to the shit music on the radio. Not with the way Deku looks at him, all soft and mushy and gross.

“Quit staring, fuckin’ weirdo.”

Deku laughs fully now. Bright. Twinkly. Cute. “Sorry, I didn’t think you noticed.”

“Might be deaf, but I ain’t blind, fuckface.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, but the teasing grin kinda takes away from his apology.

When they get home, Katsuki insists on unloading and carrying all of the groceries. It’s really just a few bags, after all. He doesn’t say a single word while Deku hums a sweet-sounding tune, but he tosses the empty bags at him. “Fold these up and put ‘em under the sink,” he says.

“‘Kay,”  he smiles. He folds them into neat little triangles next to him, and Katsuki seriously wants to lay down with his head in Deku’s lap, cold kitchen tiles notwithstanding. It’s just… it’s nice to have a day off with him, even if they do disgustingly domestic shit like this. It’s a much appreciated change of pace. Yeah, that’s what it is. A nice change.

Deku’s bright voice interrupts his thoughts. “Kacchan, when are you cooking? I’m getting hungry, and I also need time to make the cake. So we can have fresh cake with fresh katsudon!”

“I’ll start now,” Katsuki says. “So get out. I need room.”

“The kitchen’s big enough for the both of us. I’ll work on the island.”

Cooking with his– his partner? Together? Now that’s really fucking soft. It actually makes Katsuki want to melt, but that’s so lame, so he growls, “Just stay out of my way.”

And of course, Deku does not stay out of his way. He’s actually back hugging him as he sets out the necessary ingredients. “Oi, fucknugget, I said–”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he interrupts, and then presses a small kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go now.”

Stay , Katsuki wants to say. But they won’t get shit done if they're just being mushy, so he contents himself with listening to Deku humming and bustling about.

And there are no words between them, but the kitchen is noisy with sizzling noises, the whir of the standing mixer, the cracking of eggs, and the crackle of the stovetop. It’s full of life and love and a sense of home. Like Deku’s putting his little magic to use.

In an hour, Katsuki’s got two perfect bowls of freshly-fried katsudon on the dining table, and Deku’s got three cake pans in the oven. Their house smells incredible and the kitchen is so, so warm.

“Hey, dinner’s ready, so hurry up and enjoy my perfect cooking, needy bastard,” he says as he sits down.

Deku seats himself soon after. “Thanks for the meal!”

Again, there’s no talking. There isn’t any to be done. At least– not until Deku takes his first bite–

“Kacchan, this is the best katsudon I have ever eaten. Oh my gosh. Thank you–”

“You say that everytime I cook,” he huffs, even though he feels accomplished and proud on the inside.

“It’s true,” Deku laughs. “Thank you for the food. I love you.”

This time, Katsuki can’t hide the fondness and affection that wells up in him.

“Yeah,” he says. “You too.”








Notes:

just some self-indulgent fluffy stuff romanticizing the ordinary parts of our lives, featuring bakudeku!! hope you enjoyed ♡